


where it counts

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: (but tender. it’s soft ick. icktimacy, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Body Horror, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Magical Realism, Mild Gore, Neurodiverse Character, Parent Death, bbh has a foot long tongue, its just like that sometimes, non-standard intimacy/non-sexual intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16627133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: Baekhyun’s not so awful that he’d sink his little fangs into Junmyeon when he’s in the middle of volunteering in his neat cable knit sweater.





	where it counts

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really know how to explain this other than it was a random concept I kept prodding at for stress relief during a hectic time, then it became a comfort project, then a super self indulgent mess ;P I’d love to keep refining it but times are still hectic so I’m letting go. not how I’d normally write them, but the tone was fun to work with, and two people finding non-standard ways to make things work for each other is always fun too. please see the end notes for further potentially spoiler-y explanations of things! and please be mindful of the tags - it’s not /exactly/ body horror but I hope that description is indicative enough of what type of content to expect.   
> (also big muahs to twt mutuals who have listened to me whine about this for weeks and kept me motivated TT  
> also also mobile posting is literal hell I hope this isn’t a mess ;c

“Can I take a name?”

Behind the purple tint of his glasses, the man on the other side of the counter’s eyes flit down Junmyeon’s neck to his chest. “Well,” he smiles, tilting his head, “Kim Junmyeon seems a fine one.”

Name tags aren’t required of the volunteers. In fact no one else wears one; Junmyeon bought this himself. He printed out a sheet of clear, bold strips of his name at the library and highlighted them in rows of orange, yellow, pink depending on his mood. His mother said it was always good to know someone’s name. Towards the end she rarely knew his.

Junmyeon opens and closes his mouth, clicks the pen in and back out. The contents of the crate between them on the counter doesn’t seem to like the sound. With subtle ease the man traps it under his elbows, resting his chin on his hands and turning the charm in his smile up a notch.

“Oh, _my_ name?” he laughs. His teeth are pointed but small, milk fangs that could probably do no worse than leave an imprint. “Byun Baekhyun.”

As he’s being watched, Junmyeon writes deliberately and cleanly. “Byun..Baek..” he squints down at the form to bring it into focus, carefully keeping his lines within the thick borders, “..hyun.” Done. He takes it by the corner at the same moment Baekhyun prods a sharp-nailed fingertip to the centre of the paper, pinning it to the desk. Junmyeon blinks, and Baekhyun flashes his teeth again.

“You can’t keep it, mind. I know how paperwork is, take it for your form. But I’ll need it back.”

“Personal details are destroyed once your item has sold. We just need it should any problem arise or you have a change of heart,” Junmyeon explains. He gives the page a sharp tug, freeing it from Baekhyun’s chipped purple nail, and turns to file it away.

“Keep it safe, Kim Junmyeon,” Baekhyun says, “If you lose my name I’ll have to take yours, and I’m pretty fond of my own.”

  
*

  
“Oh dear.”

Junmyeon hurries away from the shelf of books he’s alphabetising to meet Baekhyun at the door. He’s carrying shallow pink stacking crates from Daiso. They appear feather light in his hands, but the stack is so tall he can’t get through the doorway.

“Please wait- will you be alright waiting?” Junmyeon rolls his sleeves up his forearms. This looks a more strenuous task than organising books.

Behind the pink tower Baekhyun nods. “Quickly though, if you don’t mind. The weight is coming back.”

Junmyeon holds up a hand, more for the boxes than Baekhyun. “Just a moment.”

With the help of a small folding step, Junmyeon relieves Baekhyun of the top off the stack. He takes about a quarter of the crates, steadying them against his chest so they don’t float out of his arms and up and away. “Is there much more? We’re very full up right now.”

Today Baekhyun’s hair is tinged green and compliments the exertion heat in his face. Was it green the last time? Junmyeon can’t recall right now. Baekhyun was right; the weight is starting to return to the boxes. “About half a closet’s worth,” he pants, “If you imagine a closet that would fit maybe eight and a half of you.”

“I see.” Junmyeon eases the pile in his arms onto the counter. The sudden lack of weight pushes up through the soles of his feet, like maybe he would float up too, if he’s not held secure. “Please, just on the floor here will be fine.”

“There’d be room somewhere for the half that didn’t fit,” Baekhyun says, staggering over. Would it be a ninth incomplete Junmyeon, or Junmyeon eight-and-a-half? “I’m very good at finding space for things.”

Junmyeon steadies the swaying crates as they’re lowered to the floor. It’s going to be a long afternoon distributing these around the place. “I can see that.”

Baekhyun blows at his bangs, but they’re damp and sticking to his forehead. He plants his hands on his hips and flexes until his spine pops, then meets Junmyeon’s eye, fangs bared in a grin. “And I can see that it’s not a skill you were blessed with.”

A small flush of heat fills Junmyeon’s face. “I do my best with the time I have,” he says, shifting, like his narrow body can block Baekhyun’s view of the bookshelves, “But I’m only one of five. I arrive for my shifts and everything has moved.”

Junmyeon works very hard to at least categorise the donations that come in, difficult as that may be when there’s no limit to what they’ll accept. Considering he hasn’t cleaned his apartment since 2013, he thinks he should probably get some credit for putting the effort in here. He’s not really sure what the other four on the rota spend their shifts doing, but it’s certainly not organising the new arrivals.

Baekhyun pouts thoughtfully, pressing a finger to his chin. The sigil inked on the back of his hand is angular with a single curve, but maybe Junmyeon is viewing it upside down. “How about you unload my car, I’ll get your books neat. I guarantee you I can fit in nearly double.”

Junmyeon doesn’t move. For a moment they’re both just staring at each other, waiting for the other to break the moment and laugh it off and get back to their business.  
  
“What?” Baekhyun moves first, towards the bookshelves, “This place is run by volunteers, no? I’m volunteering.”

_You_ _need_ _to_ _be_ _vetted_ _first_ , Junmyeon would say to not-Baekhyun. He likes rules. He only recently discovered that he also likes fangs. “Which car?”

There must be a method. Junmyeon _hopes_ there’s a method; Baekhyun’s already dismantled his entire mornings work in the time it took Junmyeon to reach the door.

“I’m just around the corner. You’ll know it.”

  
There’s nothing remarkable about Baekhyun’s car (other than the seat covers, but Junmyeon thinks it impolite to pause and look through the window at them. It’s easier to entirely forget that he saw the red fur than to want to see it again). Somehow Junmyeon does know, definitively, that this is it.

He pauses standing behind the night-dark purple car, unsure how to open the trunk. It would look bad to try it and try it wrongly. People don’t forget how to get into cars they’re familiar with.

Junmyeon clears his throat and presses his fingers to the sun warmed surface. “Excuse me,” he says, “Byun Baekhyun asked me to relieve you of some items,” and manners go a long way; the car bounces on it’s tyres ever so slightly, pushing up against Junmyeon’s palm, and the trunk pops open.

“Oh dear.”

There’s too much. It’s in bags, it’s in plastic crates, it’s in long cardboard containers from a supermarket that contained fruit. Sometimes they do get arrivals like this, but usually only after someone has died. Usually there’s a courtesy call asking if it will be alright.

“This may take me a few journeys,” Junmyeon tells Baekhyun’s car, frowning as he tries to decide where best to start. Anywhere is better than nowhere, he supposes. He pushes his rolled sleeves over his elbows and bows his head before reaching in. “Please excuse the intrusion.”

  
“Ah, just who I need,” Baekhyun beams at seeing Junmyeon come staggering through the door, “How much are all of these books?”

“All-“ Junmyeon gasps for breath, hands on his knees, “-under two thousand.“ His back wasn’t made for this kind of work. “For the small ones. The larger ones are five thousand, unless it’s something special.”

Baekhyun’s mouth moves in a silent _oh_. The paperback in his hands is well read, and Junmyeon can’t look away from how his nail absently traces the cracks in the spine.

“That’s good, you know?” There’s an eye inked on the back of Baekhyun’s neck. It’s half closed, round pupil cupped perfectly between the lids. When his head rocks back his hair hangs over it like long green eyelashes. “Some of these places charge as though they’re selling them new. I understand it’s to raise money, but you can’t raise it if you don’t sell anything.”

“Unfortunately books are one of our most common and least desired donations. I think it’s the same for most charities.” Junmyeon moves closer to admire Baekhyun’s work. “Stock rooms piled high with books no one wants to read.” His efficiency at fitting them all neatly on the shelves is truly impressive, considering there’s normally two small stacks on the floor.

Baekhyun hums, keeps sorting. Junmyeon’s lower back has a sharp stab of heat through it unless he stands at an angle, but he feels somewhat ridiculous arced back with a hand pressed to the bottom of his spine. He likes Baekhyun’s talon sharp purple nails.

“Recently I priced a book at triple the usual rate. I know I shouldn’t, but it was so beautiful I couldn’t bear for it to be worthless. But then I thought, shouldn’t something so beautiful be accessible to everyone? So I marked it down again.” Junmyeon doesn’t know why he felt the need to tell Baekhyun that. It’s been a guilty secret of his for the past month.

“Oh?” Baekhyun looks all but delighted to hear that Junmyeon has been up to no good. “Which one?”

This is- well, heck to protocol. They’ve broken near to every one of the few rules there are to follow. “I’ll show you.”

There’s a door between the end of the counter and the first rail of clothes. It opens inwards, which makes the small room inside a tight fit for two. Inside there’s a counter with a kettle and row of mugs, a laptop that’s thick and heavy like a breeze block, and a filing cabinet. It’s orderly simply because there’s no room to make a mess.

“Sorry,” Junmyeon raises his arms to squeeze past Baekhyun and still manages to brush against him, “Sorry, it’s- not exactly a full office space.”

Baekhyun watches him trying to convince the filing cabinet to open up. “I think you’d look good in a full office. In a nice suit. Doing paperwork and changing the world.”

Junmyeon considers that for a moment, then shrugs and reaches into the metal drawer. It’s a medium sized book, thick enough that it’s not easy to close one hand around but not too heavy to lift out. Baekhyun’s folded his arms over his chest but doesn’t look bored. He looks..Junmyeon’s a little too far removed from meaningful human interactions to really know.

“Oh,” Baekhyun tilts his head to read the title, “So there it is.”

In honesty this has nagged at Junmyeon ever since he did it. He thinks about the book when he can’t sleep. He thinks about his mother - or more, he thinks about the absence of her - but when he wakes dry-mouthed and wet-eyed in the night it’s often from dreams that involve the book he hid away. He dreams he’s brought it home. He dreams he gets dismissed from the charity and the book is never found in the filing cabinet.

Baekhyun leafs through it slowly, nails audibly scraping lines of text. It feels strange. It’s a part of Junmyeon, in a way. Or maybe he just isn’t used to being this near to someone for so long. “You’re interested in this?” Baekhyun taps an illustration of a moth, “English country gardens. Is it about them, or how to maintain them?”

There’s a little wave of uneasiness, like maybe Baekhyun won’t let him have it back if he can’t answer. He can, but not with either option. “I can’t read it either. Not..I probably could have years back, but I’m out of practice.” Often there’s a cloud in his head. Things he does know just get swallowed up and lost in there. “I liked the pictures,” Junmyeon says, and it’s not a lie. He also liked the sturdy feel of it, the calming soft curls of the font. There’s a little handwritten note in the front. It was given to someone with love, and it’s weathered like it’s been used. “I couldn’t bear to part with it. Not just yet. I know that’s selfish.”

Baekhyun shrugs. He closes the book with care, holding it in both hands to pass back. “I got to see it thanks to you.”

Junmyeon doesn’t wonder if it will look odd, cradling the book to his chest. It feels right pressed against his body. He likes it when things feel right. Baekhyun smiles with his eyes and his fangs and doesn’t look at Junmyeon like he’s wrong.

“The universe is always in balance. You pay in an awful lot to only take that much selfishness in return.”

  
*

  
“I think one day I’ll appear as an elderly woman.”

Junmyeon’s brows rise. Baekhyun snatches the sheet of rectangular white stickers from in front of him but then fumbles with unpeeling one of the fiddly little things. “Why is that,” Junmyeon asks, taking a sticker from the sheet and pressing it to a teacup with his thumb.

Baekhyun has been hovering around the place for most of the morning. He brought three sacks that had to be dragged through the door and clinked like thin glass, but Junmyeon was too busy listening to a customer’s lengthily tale about how she’d had a serving plate just like the one in the window back in the 60’s. By the time Junmyeon was free Baekhyun had started organising a rail of sweaters, and it’s best, Junmyeon’s found, to leave him to the task once he gets started.

“Because you pay special attention to them.” Baekhyun tilts his head to watch Junmyeon label the sticker, then sticks his own to the cup nearest and sneaks the pen away. “You get this warmth around you. I’d like some.”

It’s a harmless observation, but there’s something about it that sticks Junmyeon like a pin. Baekhyun’s smiling at him, and Junmyeon gives them both a moment. The strip lights above buzz softly, and Junmyeon’s aware of every inch of himself and where skin meets fabric, seams, layers and labels. “Forgive me, Baekhyun,” he says, passes over the second sheet of stickers, “There’s a lot to do.”

“Oh. Of- well, I’ll finish this if you’re busy?” Baekhyun offers.

Junmyeon likes his niceties. But he just nods, looking straight through Baekhyun. Turning away from Baekhyun, stepping around the shoes strewn under the nearest of the clothing rails and slipping away between them.

Baekhyun labels the entire tea service to the screeching sound of metal hanger hooks sliding across a metal rail. It’s less fun when there’s no competition for the pen, and the draft from the open door seems more noticeable. He doesn’t know how Junmyeon would like anything else priced and doesn’t know what he’s done wrong and doesn’t disturb Junmyeon to say goodbye.

  
*

  
Now, Junmyeon isn’t ungrateful. A lot of donations coming in are acts of kindness, and they can take some time for just the right person to come along. Some items are unused and unloved and unwanted; they go the fastest. Some, he thinks, should have been thrown out rather than brought here, but it’s surprising what people come in looking for.

He’s grateful for any amount of help. And he of course is grateful for how enthusiastically recurrent Baekhyun is. He wasn’t going to mention that there’s been a bad taste in his mouth since he dealt with Baekhyun’s last batch of items, because obviously he isn’t ungrateful for his effort to bring them in. But it’s so bitter, like he’s swallowed medicine, and no other taste masks it for even a second.

It’s been three days since Junmyeon’s had a shift. He scrapes his teeth back and forth across his tongue as he signs himself in. Unsurprisingly there are no new items that look as though they were previously owned by a certain witch.

Junmyeon hadn’t intended to mention it, but when Baekhyun inevitably drops by (more Daiso crates today. Only two) it’s like Junmyeon’s entire focus narrows down to the sickness in his belly each time he swallows.

“I have a, a concern,” Junmyeon’s rotten tongue takes up too much room in his mouth. Baekhyun’s hair, nails and lips are all lilac, and his eyes widen, and Junmyeon notices those are lilac too. “About an item you recently donated.”

“I promise you I check every single-“

“No, there’s-“ Junmyeon shakes his head. None of it has intentionally misbehaved. “There’s just..there’s this bitterness on my tongue that I can’t get rid of. It’s like my mouth has turned sour.”

Baekhyun frowns.

“I can’t stand it any longer,” Junmyeon adds quietly. He has a hand slipped inside his sleeve so he can thumb at the cuff seam. “I wondered if you’d know what caused it. That’s all.”

  
At some point in the morning (probably when Junmyeon was using the office laptop. He has to prod the keys with one finger to maintain the speed it can cope with) Baekhyun vanished. As you’d expect of anyone just dropping some items off, but. Well, Junmyeon doesn’t think they’re _friends_ or anything, but maybe his expectations were a little too high for thinking Baekhyun would fix whatever he’s unintentionally done to Junmyeon’s mouth.

Maybe Junmyeon’s just still bad at this whole getting to know people thing. He’d figured perhaps a witch would actually be easier, being removed from the standard every day life everyone but Junmyeon seems to fit into. Maybe he’s not a very good witch. Maybe that’s why he has so much to donate - giving up, getting rid. Maybe, more likely, it was just something Junmyeon said.

  
Junmyeon’s got his face two inches from the counter, slowly handwriting a reservation ticket in pencil, when there’s a soft thud beside him.

“Donation,” Baekhyun’s voice comes from above, “It doesn’t require paperwork.”

Junmyeon looks at the small paper bag warily. Experience tells him it could easily fill the small stock room to the ceiling once opened. “How do y-” Junmyeon blinks at the empty space in front of the counter. Huh. Must have been in a hurry.

On closer inspection the bag has only one item inside, round and wrapped in waxy grease spotted paper. Wary or not, it smells good.

It’s not until Junmyeon’s taken three bites out of the muffin that he realises the bag would be useful for catching his crumbs with. He turns it by the corner and makes to iron it out flat with the side of his hand, and only then does he notice purple ink scrawled across the paper.

/ should have asked but was running late - as allergen free as possible - eat it all now!! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ /

  
*

  
“Why do you keep donating to us?”

Baekhyun is on the lowest rung of a step ladder. His nails click against the metal as he turns. “I have a lot to clear out. It’s specialist, I can’t just throw it away,” he tuts, “Unless you’ve extended your stockroom I don’t see it gathering dust out here, so I assumed my donations were still welcome all the while I have them.”

Junmyeon hasn’t unpacked anything Baekhyun’s brought in since the incident with the bad taste, yet it goes. Boxes taped shut, crates, bags that don’t stay where Junmyeon’s put them. They sell fast. Junmyeon’s never sure how to price them and often doesn’t, but regardless they sell, and regardless he’s left with a hefty donation and a kind smile from faces he can’t quite recall.

There’s nothing wrong with it. Junmyeon watches golden dust float through a strong chink of sunlight, and he can’t seem to get a good hold on the thread of thought he goes through night after night that tells him this is a problem.

“It’s just,” he tries to puff himself up a little in his blue cable knit sweater, look serious. Baekhyun’s just a stranger up a ladder, doing Junmyeon’s job for him and doing it ten times more efficiently. “If you’re using this place as a drop off point, I’d like you to stop.”

Baekhyun’s hum is lazy. He stretches to place a figurine further along the shelf and the eye on his neck stares down. “A drop off implies I’m doing business. I’ve changed career paths recently, lets say. I’m donating what I no longer have use for to people who will get plenty of use from it.”

“Why here?” Junmyeon presses, “Why always on my shifts?”

“Why here, I wonder.” Baekhyun doesn’t mean his donations. _Why_ _a_ _dementia_ _charity_ , _you’re_ _so_ _young_ , _you_ _don’t_ _need_ _to_ _be_ _shut_ _away_ _in_ _here_ , _you_ _could_ _volunteer_ _with_ _actual_ _people_ _and_ _do_ _so_ _much_ _more_ _good_. Baekhyun bites his tongue and narrows his eyes. “But why so many questions, anyway? Isn’t it a nice twist of fate that we meet so often? That I’m giving you so many highly sought after items?”

Junmyeon shrugs. If you don’t have anything nice to say..

The floorboards creak and dip slightly under Baekhyun’s feet. He leans back against the ladder. “Anything else you want to ask? Or was that just a courteous way of telling me my donations are no longer wanted.”

Another shrug.

“What did you do to that muffin to take the bad taste out of my mouth?”

Baekhyun looks at him incredulously. “Bought one with blueberries in,” he huffs, kicking a foot back against the ladder, “Honestly, Kim Junmyeon, I hoped you’d think better of me. I don’t practice on anyone without their consent. It’s a natural antioxidant. Drew out all of that bad stuff.” He gestures to Junmyeon’s throat and pinches his fingers.

Junmyeon’s known before now that he’d like those nails in him, but it’s dizzying and- bad, it’s bad to let his mind wander to that when Baekhyun is right in front of him. He says a quiet, “Oh,” and lowers his head.

For a moment Baekhyun maintains his sulking stance, arms crossed and one of his boots tapping on the ladder. But Junmyeon isn’t even looking, so he just sighs and drops his hands to his pockets. “You’re helping me a great deal, you know. It was so hard trying to make a fresh start with the amount of unwanted items I had around me.”

Junmyeon nods. It must have been something Baekhyun was very involved in. “What kind of career change are you taking? If you don’t mind me asking.” It’s standard conversation script, but he winces once he’s said it. Baekhyun’s not exactly the subtle covertly type, but it’s probably not the wisest choice of small talk. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You shouldn’t,” Baekhyun says pleasantly, “So I get to ask you an overly personal question too.”

Fair. Junmyeon meets his eye again. He must have just been distracted by the taste in his mouth before - Baekhyun’s eyes are clearly dark brown. “You do.”

“Yep. So, you’re passionate about doing some good. And you have the time. But you’re so young and able, and I’ve never seen any volunteers under 50 at places like this.” Baekhyun leans back against the ladder again, this time with his hands folded behind himself to take hold of it. He’s a fidget, but so is Junmyeon, always toying with seams and threads. “What are you hoping to achieve by spending your days in here?”

_Wasting_ , Junmyeon knows he means, and he wouldn’t be wrong. Junmyeon insulates himself in here and lets the breeze blow in the open door, lets the sound of the birds singing in, keeps himself at arms length from the world. “Absolving myself,” he says.

Baekhyun’s sticky plum lips press into a tight line.

  
*

  
“Hey. Hey, Kim Junmyeon. Junmyeon.” Baekhyun ducks down as Junmyeon stands from a crouch and they catch each other’s eye midway. He beams. “Hi, hey, I’ve been thinking.”

“I haven’t destroyed your paperwork.” Junmyeon dusts the knees of his jeans off despite them not having actually touched the ground.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Baekhyun waves a hand, bracelets rattling, “I won’t be offended if you say no, but I want to offer help.”

Junmyeon doesn’t stop reorganising the single small table of items. They only keep this and a box of toys outside - it doesn’t have their very best items in case they get slipped away with no donation, but there’s some nice things. “Help?” Junmyeon squints at the tiny writing engraved on the back of a brooch before snapping it shut in it’s display box. “Like volunteer? Around here?”

“Ah,” Baekhyun digs his teeth into his lower lip, “Not as such. I want to help. You.” Junmyeon looks up at him then, but Baekhyun’s smile is returned with a blank stare. “You’re going through some stuff, and I’d like to help.”

Well, great, even hidden away here he can’t escape acknowledging what a sad lump he is. Exactly what kind of _help_ Baekhyun can offer to cure his specific brand of stuff is a curious prospect. It’s..honestly, it’s unsettling at times, the way Baekhyun’s donations behave once they’ve been left in Junmyeon’s care. “Please don’t think me rude for being wary.”

Baekhyun flutters his lashes, then it dawns on him what Junmyeon means, and he laughs. “Oh, you think the scary witch is going to put a spell on you? Give you a steaming potion to drink? I’m teasing, stop that,” he chides, swatting at Junmyeon to make him lighten up the pensive frown, “I’d like to stop you looking so miserable, is all. I was going to ask you for a date. Or a drink, or to make out or whatever, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Oh.” The breeze feels as though it whistles straight through Junmyeon’s ear and out the other side. “I am, but I’m not sure they’re into me,” he replies, picking up a vase he’s already checked for cracks and carefully looking it over. Baekhyun sways around in his peripheral.

“Well,” Baekhyun walks his fingers perched up on their nails across the table towards Junmyeon, “You’ve never tried it with me before, so you don’t know that.” He grins, but Junmyeon just finds something else on the table to pay attention to. Baekhyun huffs and crosses his arms. “Look- I don’t want to push you into something that will be uncomfortable. I don’t want to coerce you. I’d just like to show you a nice time, if you’re interested.”

“Why are _you_ interested.”

Baekhyun’s either choking or laughing.   
“Why are people ever interested in occupying the time and personal space of others?” he counters. He drops his head down to meet Junmyeon’s eye and gets scowled at. It makes him laugh again. “Considering you thought I kept returning because I was using this place as a drop off, I thought it better to be bold than wait until we’re both old and have you finally realise I’ve been coming to see you for a purpose.”

Well. Junmyeon likes Baekhyun well enough. He likes his nails, his fangs, the way he smiles at Junmyeon as though he makes him happy. His genuine eagerness to talk. His thighs in those leather pants he often wears.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going to invite you back to my place or something. Far too many hazards for someone so unprotected.”

“You could come back to mine.” Junmyeon wonders exactly how bold an offer that is when he can’t look at Baekhyun as he says it. He can see him clasp his hands.

“Oh? Really?” Baekhyun..he wiggles. The charms he’s wearing rattle with the movement. “When would be good for you?”

“After my shift. If that works for you,” Junmyeon replies, then feels stupid. Making a date with a kind of dangerous kind of stranger, like he’s done the whole human contact thing recently enough to remember how it goes? Beautiful boys like Baekhyun have better ways to spend their time. “Or, I don’t know. I’m so tired.”

It’s a quiet street, but it’s open and exposed nonetheless. Baekhyun traces a nail over the back of Junmyeon’s hand and bites back a grin with his fangs. “I’ll go easy on you, Junmyeon,” he winks a purple dusted eye, and it’s terrible, “Trust me, I just want to have a nice time with you.”

Junmyeon watches the point of Baekhyun’s nail pass over a vein. He doesn’t trust him in the least, but the alternative doesn’t seem all that bad. “We haven’t been having nice times before now?” It’s a little disappointing when the sharp pressure lifts away.

“I like you, you know,” Baekhyun says with a happy lilt in his voice, “I’ll be back at the end of your shift for fun times, ok?”

Junmyeon likes him too, he supposes. He waves, goes back to organising the table, and sneaks glances at Baekhyun’s broad back the whole way down the street. Somehow he just gets the feeling that they mean it in the same context, and he likes that more than anything.

 

 

Baekhyun’s eyes roll a full circuit as he takes in the living area of Junmyeon’s apartment. Well, there’s too much to take in fully at a single glance. He doesn’t look around critically; just like he’s deciphering the safest route.

“Sorry. I don’t..” Junmyeon just lifts and drops his arms. Doesn’t do much existing, really. Admittedly the place seems to suddenly look worse now someone else is in it.

“I’m only marginally more interested in you than I am in cleaning this place,” Baekhyun says, unbuckling his boots and leaving them beside Junmyeon’s sneakers.

“You make me wonder if your skill for organising things is just a hobby or if it relates to your career.”

Evidently Baekhyun’s urge to clean the place is strong, if his interest in Junmyeon is stronger, because the way he kisses Junmyeon nearly knocks him down. “No more talking about anyone’s job.” Baekhyun’s thumb presses into Junmyeon’s jaw. It’s tender in its lack of threat; angled differently his nail could slice Junmyeon open. “Ok? Nice things now.”

Briefly Junmyeon wonders why a handsome, meticulous little witch like Baekhyun would still be interested in someone whose debris is packets and cartons because even serving food up became too much of a task. You don’t really care how someone does the dishes when you’re kissing the way Baekhyun is kissing him, he supposes.

The bedsheets are tangled and slipping to the floor and he wants to be ashamed, but that takes a kind of energy he hasn’t had in a while. Doing things like this does, really, but Baekhyun doesn’t seem in a hurry. He leads Junmyeon to the edge of the bed, sits him down, gives him a kiss that seems far too intimate when it’s on his cheek rather than his lips.

“Nice things, now.” Baekhyun is either reminding him or reassuring him of it. A strong sunset glare comes through the small window and in a strip beside the bed, casting them in grey. The glass is wet on the inside with condensation, and Junmyeon would be sorry about that too, but nice things. Nice things.

Junmyeon’s jeans and sweater are easy, but Baekhyun’s in layers. He grins and giggles and wiggles his way out. “I’d have dressed for the occasion if I’d known you’d say yes,” he laughs, unbuckling maybe his fifth leather strap so far, “You seem so closed off most of the time. I assumed you’d politely reject even a drink together.”

Junmyeon frowns at that. Closed off isn’t how he intends to appear. He has a name tag, after all.

It’s been a long time since another presence broke the still atmosphere in here, and Junmyeon finds he doesn’t know how much or little to stare at Baekhyun’s bare skin. “I don’t normally..” He’s been walking through fog for the past ten months. There’s been no normal-Junmyeon that normally does things. Before she passed, before she demanded, needed, refused help, before Junmyeon started sleeping with a bag packed for just in case..maybe then, maybe that Junmyeon did things like this.

Baekhyun clambers onto the mattress beside him. There’s something very..Baekhyun about him shedding roughly 8 layers of black to reveal neon blue underwear. His body is softer, darker, and a great deal more inked than Junmyeon’s. “Don’t have to justify yourself to me,” he smiles and wriggles closer, until their bare shoulders touch. They’re touching. It’s not as confusing as Junmyeon had expected.

“I don’t,” Junmyeon agrees, and he would swear that eye had been at Baekhyun’s nape rather then staring out from his throat. “But I do need you to know bad decisions have a tendency to stay with me for a long time.”

Baekhyun laughs, presses a kiss to Junmyeon’s jaw. “You know how to make a guy feel special,” he says, but he’s still grinning. His thumb brushes Junmyeon’s thigh and he gets a little bolder with his kisses, too, lips to Junmyeon’s neck this time. “I offered my services - as a spectacular date and kisser, not a witch - to stop you dwelling for five minutes. Giving you more to worry about isn’t my intention.”

Junmyeon tilts and braces Baekhyun’s shoulder with a hand so he can lean around, get to Junmyeon’s throat. “Only five minutes.” He says it under his breath but Baekhyun hears, scowls,  
playfully digs the points of his nails in at the fleshy part of Junmyeon’s inner thigh. It’s pinpricks of pain, but it’s the sharp reminder of threat that shoots heat into his belly.

Baekhyun kisses the gasp from his mouth, grinning. “I know you’ve been looking at those. I didn’t want to make any dirty assumptions about why until I was sure.”

“Neither did I, it s- _ah_.” It’s a complicated contrast in sensation, Baekhyun’s palm on his chest and Baekhyun’s nails _in_ his chest. Not a bad one like labels in sweaters and wood grain running the wrong direction, just soft and hot and a dragging pressure that’s the most perfect kind. Junmyeon likes all of those things. He’s embarrassed, now. (That he’s hard just from this; still not for his damp, unloved home).

He hasn’t been touched - hasn’t even thought of being touched - for so long he’d maybe forgotten his body could even feel this way. Five minutes may be all it takes. But it has been so long, and Junmyeon’s out of practice at going with the flow of things. Blagging that he’s keen, because keenness is what keeps them interested in finding him interesting.

“I’m unsure how far I want this to go,” Junmyeon says to Baekhyun, who’s beautiful and powerful and doesn’t care that Junmyeon’s home and head have been dropped, spilled, and stepped around rather than cleaned up. Does care, doesn’t mind. But that’s too big to think about.

Baekhyun hums, trailing a nail in little circles beside Junmyeon’s sternum. “I feel like you already decided what I want long before I got here,” he pouts, “And so you’re weighing up if you can bear with it to salvage something you like from it.”

“I know what everyone else wants. I want what they want.” Junmyeon’s hand is still on Baekhyun’s shoulder. He’s broader than Junmyeon, feels stronger. “Easier.”

Baekhyun’s pale orange eyes watch him closely. “And what is it that I want?”

“To be inside me,” Junmyeon replies, staring into the pupil of Baekhyun’s third eye, “Or to have me inside you.” That’s just how it works. “I think, someone who loves you cares about things like if you always get a cramp in your leg and if you prefer being on your back, and if sometimes fingers are better. Sometimes just kissing and coming together is better. But people..“ The eye blinks, and Junmyeon just blinks back. “People just have a transaction.”

It’s like telling him about the book. It’s wanting Baekhyun’s nails across his spine and thinking of his little milk fangs more than anyone ever really needs to think of a strangers smile. Baekhyun drags nothing out of him forcibly, but out it comes whether he knows better or not.

“Boys who take you home want to impress themselves more than you,” Junmyeon continues when Baekhyun does nothing but thumb over his clavicle. Maybe that Junmyeon, the one three..five? years ago, maybe he did do things like this after all. “I think, someone who loves you will know if you like being struck, and which words you actually like being called, and if you care how big or hard or fast. But when it’s just two people, that’s all they’re ever supposed to want.”

Baekhyun doesn’t take long to think about that. “That’s very bleak.” He pouts all cute and puffy cheeked, but then he leans in again. There’s nothing playful in how he pulls Junmyeon’s skin between his teeth and sucks, not letting up until he gets a sound out of him. “I don’t want a transaction with you, Junmyeon,” Baekhyun says softly, flicks his tongue around a fang, “Our relationship so far has been based around donations, and I quite like it that way.”

They’ve moved horizontal, Junmyeon realises as Baekhyun’s weight starts to press down on him. “Help me with how that euphemism works in this situation.”

“I’ve given you half of my treasured possessions _and_ an expensive allergen free muffin and you still don’t find me generous,” Baekhyun tuts, “You think I could knowingly make you feel so nice and then just choose not to?”

_Yes_ , Junmyeon thinks, and thinks that learning to be happy with what people want to take from him is probably the only way he knows to please them. It didn’t really matter when he thought it was all just a game he was learning how to win. “That’s the way people are.” He hasn’t even thought about how he’d make Baekhyun feel good if Baekhyun was less forthcoming.

Baekhyun clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I won’t put anything inside you if you’re unsure. But if you decide you want it, the offer is there.”

Junmyeon can’t help the little spluttered laugh. “ _Anything_ ,” he repeats. Anything as opposed to the one obvious thing.

“Anything,” Baekhyun confirms, and he’s settling his body over Junmyeon’s. The black waistband above the neon blue doesn’t itch against Junmyeon’s belly. Baekhyun’s not hard like he is, but his skin is hot enough to scald. “Like I said, generous.”

His fangs don’t feel as blunt as they look. Making out is about as clumsy and fun as Junmyeon recalls, although now and then between wet kisses Baekhyun will bite into him so hard he sees stars. Somehow he’s sure Baekhyun would be more gentle if he asked, but he’s got no intention of that.

They’re not exactly moving together - Baekhyun’s still soft, Junmyeon’s too distracted by the dizzying intimacy of a hot mouth and sharp teeth to get any kind of rhythm going underneath him. Despite that, Baekhyun’s dotting little kisses beside Junmyeon’s ear and Junmyeon says, ”You can do it. I decided.”

There’s a little puff of breath against Junmyeon’s skin. Baekhyun plants one last kiss there and Junmyeon feels the smile. “Sure? Super enthusiastically sure?”

Junmyeon nods. Baekhyun’s got an odd way of going about this, but then Junmyeon believing that someone could be on top of him with no expectations is odd. Then he says, “I’m sure I want you to,” so there’s no uncertainty on either side.

There’s lube..somewhere, it’s definitely somewhere. Baekhyun ducks down and sticks the curl of his tongue into Junmyeon’s ear before he can tell Baekhyun where to start looking.

It’s hot and wet and it feels nice until it feels embarrassing. Baekhyun’s breath so loud and damp, a little too much close attention with no features to read. Junmyeon pushes just slightly at Baekhyun’s chest, and he huffs and takes Junmyeon’s face in both hands to hold him steady. Then it feels like nothing Junmyeon has ever felt before.

There’s a searing discomfort as the narrow point of Baekhyun’s tongue worms deeper and then deeper still, deeper than Junmyeon thinks possible. It tickles and then it aches. It’s loud inside his head and Junmyeon doesn’t breathe again until the thick wet base of Baekhyun’s tongue is as far into the unyielding space as it can go.

Junmyeon’s face has flared with heat in some kind of reflexive response to the intrusion. He presses his forehead to Baekhyun’s shoulder and clings tight to him. Baekhyun’s right hand is still at his jaw, holding him close, and his left slips down to Junmyeon’s back. He rubs to soothe him, third eye watching his features closely.

Maybe this should be..it should feel..It’s hard to think anything at all with wet muscle deep where Junmyeon’s sure his brain should be.

_What_ _are_ _you_ _doing_ _to_ _me_ occurs to him first, but Baekhyun told him, didn’t he. Anything. Junmyeon took home a witch because he didn’t treat Junmyeon like other people did, and there he was expecting plain ugly sex from someone who understood why his favourite book feels good to hold. Really..

It’s partly fatigue weighing on him, making him feel syrupy one moment and then he’ll jolt, suddenly light again, like he’s aerated. Inside his head is honeycomb and Baekhyun’s pressing the tip of his tongue into each cell, and all he can do is moan at how good the holes in his mind feel when they’re filled.

Baekhyun doesn’t practice without consent and doesn’t _put_ _anything_ _in_ without consent, and Junmyeon trusts him. Junmyeon’s eyes and nose and mouth are watering but he hasn’t withdrawn that. He’s not going to.

It’s an almost unbearable slow, slick release of pressure when Baekhyun starts to draw back. Being empty again after fullness like that is- scary, Junmyeon realises, and he’s clinging to Baekhyun so so tight. Wet heat spills down his jaw and neck. Baekhyun’s still cradling him, panting soft breaths against the shell of his ear.

“Oh,” he’s flushed too, eyes bright in a different way to Junmyeon’s. “Junmyeon, Junmyeon.” Baekhyun takes his face back in both hands and kisses him again and again. They’re two bodies side by side, not doing what strangers do, and it’s a mutual excitement. “I have more, if..“

Junmyeon nods, wipes the back of his hand over his wet chin. He doesn’t want to be left empty. “Get inside me again,” he breathes, then hides a laugh against Baekhyun’s bare shoulder, “I wonder if I’ve ever- I probably have said that genuinely to someone before.”

Baekhyun hums. There’s comments he could make, but, nice things only. They agreed. “I’d like you to not look at what I’m doing. If that’s alright with you.”

It’d be unnerving if Baekhyun hadn’t introduced his kind of intimacy to Junmyeon tongue first. “I like it when you ask.” Baekhyun guides and Junmyeon lies back. He hasn’t bought new sheets in years - these ones don’t feel bad on bare skin - but who knows what kind of mess they can make between them. “I’ll probably keep saying yes.”

Baekhyun’s dark eyelashes flutter like they’re trying to trap his eyes as they briefly roll to whites. “I like hearing you say you’re happy for me to keep going.” Their bodies press slightly overlapping, soft and hot. Junmyeon feels the hot spray across his stomach a split second before the pain, but by then Baekhyun’s kissing him and prying him open to get the whimper into his own mouth.

It’s as indescribably pain-pleasure as the first time, but it’s..more, it’s different. It’s different on a whole other scale, nothing like just going from fingers to cock. An ear- is a fucking ear, a tube. A set route. Baekhyun’s got two fingers inside him not in any way he’s felt before. Just indistinct waves of sensation, sloppy wet movement. Somewhere in his spinning thoughts Junmyeon wonders if it’s tight around Baekhyun, whatever..wherever it is. A third doesn’t seem like it takes as much effort to add as it feels to receive.

“Good?” Baekhyun’s sucking on his lower lip, tentatively holding back. Junmyeon barely hears him over the sounds between their bodies. He shakes his head frantically because it’s the easiest movement to make.

“I promise I’ll complain if I want to.” Junmyeon’s damp hair is stuck to his neck and the sheets are wrinkled under his body, and he can feel it. And he can not care about it. Baekhyun really must have a magic touch. “Are you killing me?”

“You didn’t ask for that,” Baekhyun smiles and shaky breath hisses through his pointed little teeth, “Come here, Junmyeonnie.” He shifts so they’re side by side and loops his free arm around Junmyeon. “Oh, oh, you’re doing so well,” Baekhyun shushes, pulls him in close so his hand pushes in deeper. “Come here and let me hold you. You’re amazing, Junmyeonnie, Junmyeonnie,” he murmurs against Junmyeon’s shoulder, fingers wriggling between muscle. He sounds genuine - amazed.

When Junmyeon was younger and cared about what could potentially be fixed, lack of empathy was on the list. It was wrong, he was sure. Someone with no empathy wouldn’t dedicate so much time to learning how to pretend he understands. So maybe it takes a hand reaching in for his heart to recognise tenderness for what it is. _Literal_ _thinking_ was on the list too. He likes this- this kind of tenderness, this kind of intimacy with no room for doubt. Enough room in him for Baekhyun to fill.

Baekhyun’s hand tangles in his hair. Tugs just enough to get a good angle on his neck, biting into him and pumping his fingers into him.

“Whatever- fuck- you’re doing, keep doing it,” Junmyeon pants, head swimming with pain and the peace of white noise beyond it. He doesn’t know how to move to make this easier or show more enthusiasm than he already is by baring as much as he can, clinging as tight as he can.

Baekhyun’s mouth trails up Junmyeon’s jaw. He kisses his lips gently, sweet little pecks. “Junmyeon,” kisses his flushed cheek, too, “Can I use my tongue?”

Oh, god. “Please. Yes.”

With care Baekhyun withdraws his fingers, the sound of it no more bearable than the sudden emptiness. “So pretty,” he coos, and Junmyeon doesn’t really want to know which part he’s referring to. Baekhyun doesn’t waste any time wriggling down,   
clamping his hands either side of Junmyeon’s waist. For a moment Junmyeon’s painfully aware of how awkward and human their bodies are where they meet, his hard cock pressing into Baekhyun’s chest. Baekhyun only seems interested in how much space he can get between Junmyeon’s thighs to slot himself into.

“I’d ask that you still don’t watch.”

Junmyeon’s only finally able to place where one of the punctures is once Baekhyun’s wet mouth has lead a path to it. How wide it is he can’t tell, but the tip of Baekhyun’s tongue traces the raised edges, working in small circles. Junmyeon’s still not entirely convinced this isn’t a slow form of dying, but he’s moaning loud enough to drown out any panicked thoughts. He’s never sounded this needy in his life, he’s sure, and Baekhyun’s tongue flutters into the opening of the hole- and now, _now_ he’s definitely never sounded so desperately needy. It’s a good kind of unfamiliar. A good kind of want.

Gripping at Baekhyun’s hair pushes Baekhyun’s chin into his stomach and makes his cock slide against Baekhyun’s collarbone. The stuttered movements feel kind of pathetic, but Baekhyun just lets out a pleased hum at Junmyeon’s enthusiasm. He thumbs soothingly at his hip and slips inside him, letting out pleased little pants of breath at how Junmyeon’s entire body curls to accept his tongue.

Once the caution has passed it quickly turns sloppy and messy. Baekhyun darts his pointed tongue into the hole until fucking it in reaches its limit. There’s a shock of excitement along with the fear this time as Junmyeon breathes deep in anticipation. This isn’t just what Baekhyun’s doing to him now - it’s what he wants Baekhyun to give to him. The pressure inside him swells and Baekhyun wraps his arms around Junmyeon’s waist, holds him firm so he can push deep and deeper.

“Please, more, please, pl-” Junmyeon grasps at Baekhyun’s hair and sobs, squirming. It just makes Baekhyun clamp his arms around him tighter, urging his tongue further in until Junmyeon’s twisting in the sheets. He comes touched only from the inside, and if this is dying he really, really doesn’t care.

The bitter tang on Baekhyun’s lips brings him back to himself. They’re just lying side by side, innocuous. The sheets don’t feel wet and Junmyeon gingerly twists his lower torso just to see if it feels torn.

“Junmyeonnie,” Baekhyun’s smile widens when he sees Junmyeon’s with him again. “How could anyone not care about giving you what you want.” He looks smug, and Junmyeon can’t blame him. Something else he’d be embarrassed about if he had the energy, but Baekhyun has thoroughly seen to him having no strength to do anything but watch him crowing right now.

Baekhyun props up on his elbow. “Is- kissing is still ok, right? May I keep kissing you?” His hair is fluffy, and being attracted to bodies is ridiculous and nonsensical, but the angle of his collarbones and broad chest dotted with sigils- Junmyeon’s not sure he could say no if he tried.

He nods. “Oh- god, that’s,” He’s only just back in focus enough to realise why Baekhyun’s neck and collarbones are slick. Did it get in his third eye? Junmyeon covers his face with both hands and Baekhyun pries them away again, giggling.

Baekhyun never did get hard, Junmyeon realises, but when he’s kissing Junmyeon so lazy and sated perhaps that wasn’t necessary to what Baekhyun wanted. Generous, as he said.

Unsure if he feels lightheaded from the orgasm or that way reality floods back after one, Junmyeon keeps his head on the pillow and focuses on the way Baekhyun is only touching him with the soft pads of his fingers now.

“I’m not- seriously,” he croaks, “I’m not going to die or anything. Am I?”

The way he laughs it’s surprising Baekhyun’s jaw doesn’t unhinge. He laughs until he’s lightheaded, and then he collapses against Junmyeon’s side. ”You always think badly of me, Kim Junmyeon,” he says, burying in against his ribs, “And I don’t blame you, but I hope you’ll come to think better of me.”

They’re cuddling, kind of, bloodstained and dizzy and with no terms for what happens now it’s over.

  
*

  
Junmyeon’s next shift is two days after their date. Baekhyun appears sometime after ten with a sagging cardboard crate and a grin that Junmyeon avoids in favour of keeping his polite customer service smile. Baekhyun’s still lilac.

“You lived,” he says, setting the crate on the counter and then propping on his elbows.

“Without a mark to show for it, yes.”

Baekhyun tilts his head, smile fond. He doesn’t normally wear earrings, but there’s a long thin chain trailing down to his shoulder. The place was empty when he arrived and the chime hasn’t sounded since, so he’s conversational, “Well, I’ve never orgasmed someone to death before now,” amused, eyes lit up.

“It would sound impressive next time you find someone with organs you want to touch, I suppose.”

“You really still don’t think you’re all that special, huh.”

Junmyeon wears a name tag to be open, but with Baekhyun it’s the lack of necessity. He’s wondered over the last few days if it meant anything more special. To him, yes, he never has and probably never will connect with another human quite like that again. But maybe Baekhyun is just a very giving witch. Maybe Junmyeon’s insides are only as special as anyone else’s. “You coming back perhaps means I am.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth and for once no words come out. He licks a fang, then says, “That’s how this works, isn’t it? I come back again and again. Maybe I come back to your home again, until we don’t want to do it anymore.”

“I don’t know how it works.” Junmyeon rarely makes eye contact as prolonged, but Baekhyun’s soft green eyes don’t hurt. “When someone is like no one else. I think it’s dangerous when that happens, you know?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. He wants to be told, and Junmyeon’s uncertain now if he should like that he’s a receptive audience.

“You start to think that someone is the only person in the whole world that can make you feel a certain way. And that’s a dangerous way to think about someone.”

“I’m not. If you meant me. Did you mean me?” Baekhyun cups his cheeks, pleased with the compliment. Junmyeon looks away as he smiles, looks back and Baekhyun’s staring down at their fingers an inch apart on the counter. “Other people want and can do the things I can do, though, Junmyeon. People more skilled and powerful than me,” he shrugs, “They can do more. Do it better. There’s never only one person in the world. For the record, I could feel the same about you if I didn’t know better.”

Junmyeon starts reorganising the stack of striped plastic bags behind the counter. “In that case it might be safer.”

“Oh?” Baekhyun spills over the counter like ink, following Junmyeon to where he’s retreated, “In that case, you _genuinely_ like me for my tongue, not because it’s the only one out there.”

Junmyeon’s head snaps up. “I never said it was about y- that.” In ways it is - of course it fucking is. Junmyeon dreams of it more than he dreams of the book. He’s come more times over the last two days than in the last five months, but it’s only attempts at getting the same release. Remembering it only makes the emptiness more pronounced. He still aches afterwards, not really relieved at all. “I agreed before I knew about that, didn’t I?”

Baekhyun scrunches his nose. “I suppose you did. So what next? Do I introduce you to my familiar?”

“You start seeing me outside of work,” Junmyeon says before his tone policing can kick in. Because of lots of reasons, but mostly because they can’t have these conversations here. Because it’s not right to bring that into this space. Baekhyun’s third eye is on the side of his neck today, nestled alongside the thick tendon running down from his ear. It’s peering sidelong at Junmyeon. “And, and maybe your place would be better than mine, next time.”

“I liked yours. Cozy.” Baekhyun hauls himself back onto his elbows. His leather jacket creaks with the strain. “I’m nearly out of things to donate, I must admit. I was starting to wonder what I should do if hadn’t secured a date by then.”

Junmyeon smiles down at his hands. Baekhyun knows who he is with no name tag and watches him more intensely than most can, and knows how he lives, how he doesn’t communicate. There seems little point moderating what comes out of his mind when Baekhyun felt privileged to kiss it. “Buy more and keep trying,” he says, “Keep making me feel interesting.”

Baekhyun’s pecked Junmyeon’s cheek before there’s time to tell him no, let alone why not. “I find you very interesting,” Baekhyun says with a gentle tap of his nail to Junmyeon’s inner arm, “Inside and out.”

Junmyeon doesn’t bother getting into details of why this isn’t the time or place and just shoos him away.

  
*

  
He thinks again and again about what his family went through. What he went through. Why it had to be him, because everyone else had a life that mattered too much. He grew closer to his mother as she grew more distant from him, wanting his brother, holding her husband’s hand in appreciation for his kindness when she asked for the man she married. He thinks about it less - it stops him in his tracks rather than playing on a loop.

He holds the book. Baekhyun holds him. Baekhyun’s in his home, his head, his insides (those are what count. It’s what’s inside that counts) enough to prove they can’t be all that rotten after all.

 

 

Junmyeon’s prodding figures into the office laptop while Baekhyun leans against the door to keep it open, giving Junmyeon a clear view out to the rails of clothing. Sometimes Baekhyun serves customers when Junmyeon is busy. Junmyeon likes Baekhyun more than he likes rules. And anyway, Baekhyun knows his own target market better.

“You’re slowing down,” Baekhyun comments, and when he tilts his head to the side Junmyeon has stopped entirely. He’s staring at the filing cabinet. “What.”

“Do you think I should put the book back on sale?” Junmyeon looks back to the chunky keyboard. He hopes the book can’t hear him. Things seem..different, to when he first needed it around. “It’s time to move on from it,” he says to script. Never liked that particular script much, “Or, what do you think?”

“I think if you find something that makes you feel all right, then you should enjoy feeling all right,” Baekhyun replies, frowning and jamming the point of his thumbnail under the closed lid of a small tin he’s been fiddling with. It still doesn’t open. “Here, you try, you’re better at finding a way with this stuff.”

Junmyeon steps away from the laptop and Baekhyun takes a long stride away from the door in perfect time for them to collide. Junmyeon’s back presses to the filing cabinet and his elbow hits it with a loud metallic thud. “This is unprofessional,” he says expectantly, but all Baekhyun does is shrug and press the little tin into Junmyeon’s palm.

For a moment Baekhyun watches Junmyeon turn it over and pry at the edges with his thumb. “Is my name still in here?” he nudges the toe of his boot into the cabinet.

Junmyeon hums, nods. “Your name and the book are in there together. I keep them safe. Ah, there’s a little catch-” he turns the tin once more and presses hard on the raised detail.

“I supposed you would. You seemed trustworthy.”

It still doesn’t open. Pouting, Junmyeon holds it close to squint at. Baekhyun closes a hand around Junmyeon’s and lowers it, making room for himself to swoop in. _Now_ this is becoming unprofessional. Finally. It’s a new concept to Junmyeon, and he’s finding he likes it.

Baekhyun’s not so awful that he’d sink his little fangs into Junmyeon when he’s in the middle of volunteering in his neat cable knit sweater. The alternative is kisses that feel as though Baekhyun’s trying to literally melt Junmyeon down into goo. Junmyeon trusts him not to, though. It’s hard to find the energy to fight his eyes open when Baekhyun draws back, but it’s a sight worth seeing. A dishevelled Baekhyun is Junmyeon’s favourite type.

“About that.” The glossy purple around Baekhyun’s upper lip is smeared. “Until you return it to me, I’m afraid I’m yours to keep.”

“Oh~” Junmyeon gives him a playfully concerned look - or tries, anyway, sometimes he’s not sure his face is conveying what he wants. It doesn’t really matter with Baekhyun. He likes the sound of that a lot.

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- junmyeon is some kind of autistic and getting to write his pov with the world from his unfiltered perspective was a really good experience [thumbs up emoji]  
> \- tender violence as a kind of simulation of sexual intimacy is so interesting and I wish I could have elaborated more tbh but this just is just what it is. why bbh is disinterested in standard concepts of intimacy is open to whatever you like   
> \- ([this cam](https://twitter.com/softsuyeol/status/1060209587218014208?s=21) of bbh stabbing jm then hugging him to push it deeper contributed to this fic, thanks u little terror   
> \- * [this man right here officer](http://myheartforgomez.tumblr.com/post/147916076877/his-smile-is-my-everything%E2%80%9D%20rel=)
> 
>  
> 
> thank you for reading ! ☀ at [tumbl](https://taonsil.tumblr.com) ❀ [twt](https://twitter.com/taonsil) ❀ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/suyeols) if you wanna talk or see extensive meta on similar subjects


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